And We Wander With Our Thoughts second copy
by death-in-the-orchard
Summary: Stories are back online.


_Experimenting again._

* * *

When the atmosphere at the meeting between the Vatican operatives and Hellsing became too volatile, as was a common result of this particularly hazardous mixture, the causes of the undesirable atmosphere were instructed by those who had authority over their actions, to 'cool' their heads. So it was at the orders of the bishop Enrico Maxwell and the Hellsing heir that the priest and the vampire were set loose upon the world. …If this truly had been the case, then the horsemen of the apocalypse would have become unnecessary. They were set 'loose', but limited by the length of their leashes and defanged by their muzzles.

They were forbidden to fight one another, and with no further interest in their enemy beyond tearing into his flesh, they had set off in separate directions. Alucard, finding nothing that could anchor him down, wandered through the cropped plains of grass lawns and paved walkways that were meant to be appealing to hotel guests, meandering where people were welcomed to walk and also treading in places no guest should want to tread. Muddy boots became clean, however, when the sprinkler system for one of the trimmed patches of grass went off; the black spouts rose from the earth like restless soldiers from their graves before unleashing the far-reaching missiles of their dousing barrage that blasted the quiet of the night into pieces as they seemingly went to war with one another, clicking and rotating to cover the expanse of their battlefield with constant liquid bombardment – and catching the vampire in the in the middle of it all. Not fond of being cleaned this way, though his warmongering heart praised the atmosphere, Alucard quickly slipped into the shadows of a path made private by trees and hedges so that he might continue his meandering and the 'cooling' of his head - though dripping wet seemed to be rather 'cooled' enough.

And this is where the forgotten priest reemerged. He had been exploring a specific scene much more peaceful than the cropped battlefields, for half of an hour - unlike the wandering undead soul who could not be rooted anywhere. Father Anderson had been drawn in and subdued by the sleeping flowers. The uncovered windows of nocturnal occupants in the hotel lightened the shade of darkness in the garden with a faint glow, just enough to make naturally bright colors luminous with supernatural qualities while retaining a lulling state of half-darkness that left the presence of night upon the garden. What could be seen in the light was not completely lost in the darkness; the shroud only required the inquisitive holy wanderer to pacify the unrest that dwelled within him in order to find the same beauty. And the seclusion of the garden aided the Catholic in achieving this.

The chirps of the bodiless musicians responsible for that evening's cacophonous symphony were unrelenting as the musicians' passion grew while the night matured, unmindful of the opinions of their audience. Like any other creation convinced of its rightness, the crickets were naturally incorrigible when one might have wished for their enthusiasm to be reined in to a more reasonable display of commitment – a moderation that would perhaps allow the creatures to lessen their pride, collect themselves, and learn again how to compose blissful melodies - if they had ever possessed the knowledge - instead of persisting with their incessant clamor. Father Anderson, however, was not a critic of their chaotic performance and appreciated the contribution the insects made to the atmosphere that seemed to be enclosed in the isolation of the garden, walls of hedges valued for shielding it from outside influence. Where complete peace has proven to be impossible on Earth, to have the crickets provide the only disturbance in the fertile sanctuary, the garden was an oasis for a man war-torn by crusades supported only by his own mind and the few that were like it - a throat parched and deserving of some relief.

The priest invested his undirected time in discovering what dwelled within the impenetrable asylum and in absorbing the peaceful essence that diffused into him as his body presented its many empty hollows. These hollows in Father Anderson's body were spaces which refilled with the peaceful essence whenever chance cast these oases into his path as he trekked across the frontlines of his devotion to the Lord - a devotion that was obsessive to the point that exterminating unbelievers and other acts of carnage were guiltless if done in His holy name.

Red eyes watched from the shadows, expressionless, opinion-less, but observing through a stolid stare. It was as if Father Anderson was, for the vampire, the essence of the garden that had tied the priest down and Alucard was the being who wished to appreciate the combined effect the night and isolation had on the said 'garden' – the example of a raw human being, unguarded and uncorrupted by a world which was making these mortal creatures so artificial and bland in this strange age of mankind, as if they were all cast from the same thoughtless mold, in mind and body. To see a crazed man calmed into the semblance of tranquil enlightenment, seeming to have unconsciously obtained the understanding that the world should not bear the superficial worries man has strewn over its surface or the ties of hatred that have been recycled through centuries, changing in shape but not in nature; Alucard watched, and Father Anderson moved with slow, leisurely steps that often paused as the bronze glasses found something of interest. Plump ceramic pots that stood up to the priest's hip were additional decorations, brimming with flowers lying in a cushion of woven green that spilled over the lips of the pots as an overflow of vitality. It was the Eden into which the serpent and knowledge had never entered. The fingers, gloved and in this way numbed to textures, carefully stroked through the brimming faces of reds, yellows, and purples, of pansies and marigolds in the pots, as if to feel the softness of their petals.

It was peaceful, pure, and the only sin that haunted the garden was the vampire's gaze which moved when necessary to remain on the priest as Father Anderson's hard boots softly passed collections of closed faces without disturbing their dreams. Only the appearance of striped carnations borrowed the crimson gaze before the human commanded it once more. The man walked, revisiting what he had already seen, something keeping the bloodthirsty fanatic, whose zeal had often clashed with the vampire, composed and pensive, as the man's thoughts seemed to be wandering with his steps. They were thoughts Alucard could not decipher from a face that wore an emotion he could not so casually experience himself.

Eventually, however, greater momentum returned to Father Anderson's feet and the vampire discerned the signs of departure in his movements moments before Father Anderson started towards the path where Alucard was still cloaked in shadow. Detection being an unattractive prospect under the current circumstances, Alucard withdrew to meld into the darkness that suited his nature, until the priest had passed and was following the path of concrete that framed the dampened lawns where the soldiers had descended into their graves. Little time passed before the vampire was once again observing the holy man, never attempting to engage Father Anderson, but always stalking the nomadic 'garden' whose hedge walls were soon to be cropped down to the level of the grass lawns, until they could rise again with the nourishment of the succeeding oasis. The crickets had become less prevalent since the priest and his haunt had left the garden, which, in the end, Alucard had failed to enter - instead occupying the gloom on the other side of the hedges where sinful footsteps had already imprinted themselves.

An intruder was the stroke that cut down the priest's enduring calm. Though it was a peaceful presence, it still caused Father Anderson's face to harden, making the green eyes brighter with an increased awareness of his surroundings that was accompanied by a glow of suspicion. Walter had been sent by his mistress, who was doing Maxwell a minor favor in order to be rid of him as soon as possible, to fetch the disruptive pair that had been banished. The meeting was reaching its conclusion. Father Anderson did not respond when he was informed that Maxwell desired his return, and afterwards started towards the hotel with much heavier steps - which made his hard boots audible against the concrete path, clashing with the ground as if it where his enemy, harsh when it had once been gentle. The march was halted in a moment and the man turned to observe what had been behind him. The Hellsing butler had parted the dark veil of obscurity keeping the nosferatu's presence hidden and exposed the secrecy Alucard had so far maintained. Father Anderson's surprise presented itself in an unremarkable blankness, or lack, of expression on his face and one unnecessary blink, but nothing more of the feeling was betrayed as green met Alucard's crimson eyes while Walter was still speaking to the vampire, pale lips clearly showing a smirk that was paraded through much of the return journey.

By the time Walter had turned to follow the priest, Father Anderson had put a significant distance between himself and the Hellsing servants. They were reunited for a few moments when they reached the hall in which the meeting had taken place, Father Anderson entering and then soon exiting as Maxwell and a few Iscariots emerged, followed by stuffy men of well-established families, a group from which Integra Hellsing immediately detached herself. As a woman whose conduct usually carried the elegance of a well-bred gentleman and little evidence of her sex, even within the walls of her own home, she had never been able to dissolve into a crowd – her presence was simply too distinct.

A distorted reflection passing over the polished tiles, Integra's strides were purposeful, which made them quick, and the insignificant distance between the Catholics and Hellsing shrank as she was joined by Walter. Soon Alucard, who felt inclined to humor a slight whim by walking beside the master of his soul, made an appearance in her presence. Integra looked him over with little interest as his steps matched her own, continuing at her determined pace while the stuffy men lagged farther and farther behind in order to avoid Alucard, but the dampness of her vampire caused Integra to temporarily slow to a more common pace - though she had also been persuaded to do so by the barricade of unhurried Iscariots in front of her.

"Alucard."

The nosferatu's gaze responded to the commanding tenor in the voice he had watched Integra develop since her girlhood, hard work having paid off as her voice rung low and masculine in his ears with the trained pitch that could allow no man to question her authority. At the moment he was unable to guess why she would address him while the Iscariots were within earshot. Integra Hellsing rarely spoke to her vampire in public on the few occasions he accompanied her on business trips. But the vampire was ready to accept amusement, so when she spoke the indents of his mouth easily deepened with the appearance of a sinister curl – a look Integra, and countless others, had always found unpleasant.

Her trained and one and only voice continued. "What were you been doing while you were unsupervised? Why are your clothes so damp?"

Integra waited and Alucard's grin curled deeper before relaxing while inquisitive eyes ahead of them observed. With his tone managing to add comments such as 'The answer should be obvious' and 'There is not a more efficient way to 'cool' one's head' without speaking them, Alucard replied plainly with a lie. "I went for a swim."

Walter smiled to himself in the background where no one would pay much attention to him, a position designed to hide the humors and feelings he sometimes shared with Alucard from his mistress. It would be better not to encourage her to take on Alucard's influence like he had when he was young. That influence never went away but only sank deep into the brain where it grew fat on blood filled thoughts, like a tumor drawing in the veins of streaming consciousness to feed upon the evils and temptations experienced or observed.

Integra gave the vampire an unimpressed glare, the corner of her mouth dipping into a momentary frown. Her eyes left him to peer ahead, seeking her destination while concluding that the vampire was refusing to comply with her at the moment, instead throwing a barrier around his thoughts by becoming an annoyance that would force her to lose her curiosity. She let it go. Some parts of Alucard would always be outside her reach. "You never told me you were a swimming-vampire."

The grin chuckled, pleased that she was not in the mood to be stubborn, and red eyes swept over their surroundings as the different parties left the hotel and could now see the night through a series of decorative, tree-filled archways that held the weight of rooms containing hotel guests above their heads. "Your vampire is the most proficient undead swimmer you will ever come across. I might even be able to claim that I swim as well as any boulder, once rolled off a cliff in the proper fashion. I make a grand splash and quickly swim to the bottom of whatever godforsaken water I fell into. Surfacing again is much more…_impossible_, however, so it is unlikely that you will ever see me demonstrate my talent."

"Hm." Was Integra's only response, her ears already deaf to her vampire's voice, and her mind focusing on more important and serious things. But her attention was recalled by the Catholic priest who had been watching and had decided to enter the conversation to insert his own comment – since he knew a little about what Alucard had been doing and wished to remind the vampire by showing he had paid attention to the question, which meant he was personally interested in the answer. Red eyes were on Father Anderson in an instant.

"I wouldn't mind seeing that one day, Vampire. I'd even help you and go so far as to toss you in myself. I think you'd enjoy rotting like a carcass at the bottom the sea. You will be able to '_swim_' as much as you like." His emphasis on the lie was no lost on Alucard.

Integra snorted at the man, finding that they shared a faintly similar sense of humor, but she did not evaluate the identical similarity she shared with the vampire and her attention traveled down the stretch of pavement, veering off to the side where she saw the car she had been expecting through one of the archways.

Alucard smirked at Father Anderson's familiar grin, white and filled with blunt teeth, meeting the green eyes that were wrinkled by age the mortal face had acquired before it had been frozen with immortality by the work of man's science and the Lord's intentions. A glint of light off of the priest's glasses cut off Alucard's view of his eyes, and once again the priest and the vampire went their separate ways.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

At the next meeting that brought the holy man and the damned creature together, their behavior was much more acceptable than it had been at the previous meeting, and this being the case, the two were permitted to remain indoors but outside the hall in which the important figures were gathered. Integra had assumed that Alucard would fade off to wherever he tended to drift when he lingered on the outskirts of her activities without impairing the efficiency of her day – the vampire naturally being a significant and intimidating distraction to those she worked with. Maxwell had assumed something similar for Father Anderson and did not suspect that the regenerator had gone no further than the hallway outside the door.

The lack of maniacal cackling, gunshots, and the guzzling sound of thousands or millions of dollars' worth of damage consuming the Hellsing's and the Vatican's funds, no one could have guessed that the vampire and the priest were together at this moment. A few chairs were present along the length of the relatively empty hallway, but the two occupants chose to stand.

Father Anderson made the first remark after they had been examining one another from a neutral distance for some time. His sardonic grin was less twisted than the vampire's when Alucard gleefully listened to the man's attempt to antagonize him. "I'm disappointed, Vampire. By the looks of it you haven't gone for a swim recently. Perhaps you will by the next time Maxwell meets with the Hellsing woman."

"We should dive in together, Judas. And I will drag you down into the depths so that we may watch each other rot for all of eternity - if we don't manage to drown properly."

"No," Father Anderson returned, his look a little more disdainful and his smirk resembling a distasteful sneer. "I don't think I would enjoy rotting beside a monster. I'd much rather tear off his limbs, impale his sinful heart with my blade -and _finally_ decapitate that obnoxious smile." A mild glower was focused on the spark of mirth in Alucard's eyes, the eyes narrowing when the priest noticed that the fanged grin had grown larger due to his words.

Father Anderson looked away, and it was quiet until he engaged the vampire again. "If you never went for a swim, Vampire, did you fall into a puddle? Did something so meager almost end you? I would have loved to watch." Father Anderson was clearly asking for an explanation in the only way he could bring himself to give the question – indirectly and with a comfortable amount of derision. The reference to Alucard's appearance at the end of the last meeting failed to bother the demon. In fact, he had been waiting for the question and white fangs smiled as soon as he recognized its appearance.

"Alas, no, my Beloved Judas, no puddle has ever possessed the strength to ensnare me, but you are right in assuming that I did not visit any of the hotel pools. I instead walked, rather than risk falling to the same fate of the decomposing ships that litter the depths and mark the graves of souls that were more adventurous than myself. …The hotel seems to have been in the habit of watering their lawns in the middle of the night. Which is not unexpected, just not thought of when I was taking my walk."

Father Anderson blinked as he had before, his face apparently unable to support any greater display of surprise. "So it was ordinary sprinklers that caught you off your guard, Vampire?"

Pale lips smirked without showing the demon's fangs. "It was the sprinklers… You look pleased, Judas. Would you like to congratulate them? Or perhaps enter into an alliance? All sprinklers are to shoot down any vampire they find in their midst?"

"I will equip them with Holy Water. They should prove to be useful, no doubt."

Alucard was impressed with the depth in which the priest cooperated in the discussion. He became more thoughtful, giving no reply for the priest's proposal, though it had been made with some real malicious intent that would usually please the vampire. Father Anderson was taken aback after he had not paid attention to Alucard for a few minutes and the vampire suddenly spoke to him with no evidence of wishing to provoke an aggressive response, wearing no smile, not even watching the priest to see his unnecessary blink and his empty stare.

"So you have questioned me and gotten your answer. Now I expect you to return the favor."

Father Anderson's eyes narrowed with suspicion, green flickering as he foresaw some conflict that would result from a trap the vampire was undoubtedly in the process of setting…or had been setting for some time… "What would a Vampire like to know about me? How I'd kill him? I've told you enough times for you to have it imprinted in that horror of a mind, Monster. I will not cooperate with an unholy spawn of the devil, like yourself. I shouldn't even bear to stand here, you over there, without by blades sticking through your gut. I'll be damned before I respect your wishes."

Alucard had glanced at the priest, but showed no pleasure or disturbance when he looked away or when he gave a second glace to the man before setting his gaze on the unadorned wall across from himself. The vampire ignored the words, the threats, all of the man's hatred. The nosferatu was as calm as the priest had been in the isolated Eden. "Judas, what were you thinking of in that garden?"

There was silence that hardened with the priest's returning scowl, a glare resenting the temerity the vampire was using to insult his enemy. "You watched me…" The growl came and paused. "How long were you there, Monster? How long did you slink about in your darkness and stalk me?"

"Questions again, Priest? You've given me enough already. You owe me an answer before I will give you another."

"I owe you nothing." Spitting out the words like poison, a glow of hatred in his eyes that would have strangled the vampire if the green glare had the ability, Father Anderson hissed at the vampire. A hand had even unconsciously jerked towards one of the bayonets that craved the demon's flesh, driven by emotion rather than thought. Alucard saw this, but was unfazed. The man's passion and hot temper seemed to bore him for once.

"Then you shall receive nothing more from me, and I will seek nothing more from you - though I will remain prepared to receive the answer I sought, Judas Priest." Alucard had decided to fade from the hallway to resume his habitual and monotonous seclusion, but he lingered for a time to see if he might yet receive an answer from the priest.

Father Anderson still glowered, his resentment and hatred not noticeably impacted by the creature's mood. Suddenly he decided that he could not look at the demon, as if Alucard was too repulsive a sight to bear, and he snarled while growling. "Don't use your deception on _me_, Vampire Alucard. You cannot take _anything_ from me by use of trickery or force. I am no fool, you spawn of Satan, and all I will ever give you is your death and your passage to Hell. So spare me the stench of your treacherous words."

"…Then I shall assume that the Judas thinks of only the flowers."

Father Anderson hurled a daggered glare at the vampire when the murmur ignited his blood, and would have cursed Alucard and perhaps done more if the thorough emptiness of the hallway had not stopped him. Alucard had faded away, and the priest did not see him again until their blood and the sparks of their opposing powers dampened another razed battlefield.


End file.
